Done to Death (5 page)

‘Come on,' Ada urged. ‘We need to get closer so you can get a shot. Did she have a heart attack?'

Sirens blared as they jogged across the street. Lil's camera finger pressed record as she spoke over the video. ‘It's April twenty-third 2013 and I'm outside the headquarters of Lenore Parks Productions.' Careless of the snarled traffic, she focused on Lenore's face. Her mouth and nose were covered by an oxygen mask. Her auburn bob was plastered to the side of her face, and – even without make-up − there was no mistaking that this was Lenore Parks.

Lil struggled to keep her in frame and pressed the zoom as the EMTs paused at the ambulance's rear doors. With efficiency of movement they collapsed the wheels of the stretcher, and on a quick count of three hoisted it into the back. One climbed in next to the stretcher accompanied by a uniformed officer, while the other ran to the front. With lights and siren it pulled away. The entire episode from start to finish lasted less than forty-five seconds.

Oblivious to a young officer trying to shoo her and Ada from the middle of the Avenue, Lil filmed the ambulance as it headed north and then west. ‘What just happened?' she asked the officer.

‘Ladies, I couldn't say, but if you don't get out of the middle of Fifth Avenue you'll be the only people in New York ever to have gotten a ticket for jay walking.'

‘Sorry officer,' Ada said. She gently tugged at Lil's arm. ‘Lil, come on. We've got a two o'clock with that Barry Stromstein. If nothing else, it gets us inside.'

Lil smiled. ‘You're as curious as I am.'

‘There was blood on the sheet,' Ada said. ‘That was no heart attack. She was injured.'

Lil, who'd been a doctor's wife and frequently filled in for Bradley's nurse, shared her observations. ‘I couldn't tell if she was breathing. They weren't bagging her, so you'd think she was breathing. There should have been condensation in the mask … but there wasn't.'

‘You think she's dead?' Ada stopped as they came to the sidewalk. The waiting audience and gawkers had now swelled to where the sidewalks around LPP headquarters were an impassible mass of humanity. Cell phones were out, and a flatbed truck had pulled up, its back stacked high with wooden blue police barriers. ‘We need to go in now,' Ada said, and she headed toward the building's revolving glass door.

Without hesitation, Lil followed, expecting to be stopped. They weren't. A heavyset guard sat in front of the elevators behind a U-shaped counter. To his left was a bank of monitors. He looked up as they approached.

Ada smiled. ‘That was strange.'

The man looked at the two of them and nodded. ‘Are you here on business?'

‘Yes,' Ada said, ‘we have a two o'clock meeting with a Mr Stromstein.'

‘Thirty-second floor. I'll need to see some ID.'

As Lil retrieved her purse and driver's license, she fished for information. ‘That was Lenore Parks. Do you know what happened?'

‘Couldn't say.' He checked Lil's license and Ada's state of Connecticut ID. He picked up his phone. ‘I have a Lillian Campbell and Ada Strauss for Mr Stromstein. Yeah, I know. Check to see if the meeting's still on. I'll hold.' He looked at Lil and then at Ada. ‘Glad I'm not them,' he said.

Ada smiled at the man, who was close to their age. ‘That's cryptic.'

With the phone to his ear, waiting to hear if Lil and Ada's meeting was still on, he explained. ‘It's Tuesday; she tapes a ten o'clock and a three o'clock. She never misses … today will be a first.'

Ada held his gaze. ‘You were a cop, weren't you?'

He nodded. ‘Twenty years.'

‘So what's with the circus?' She looked toward the bank of glass doors they'd just come through. The crowd was thick and spilled into the street. Officers had begun to pull barriers off the truck and were creating a blue wall around the entrance and perimeter.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Kind of nosy, aren't you?'

‘Curious,' Ada said and, knowing you have to give to get, she added, ‘I saw blood on the sheets.'

‘Good eyes,' he offered.

‘Lasik.'

‘Me too,' he said. ‘You didn't hear it from me … she was shot.'

‘Who did it?' Lil asked.

The guard's attention was pulled by a voice through the phone. ‘It's still on?' He sounded surprised. ‘Thanks.' He hung up. ‘You're going up to thirty-two. Someone will meet you at the elevators.'

‘Do they know who shot her?' Lil repeated.

‘Couldn't say. But I bet you're the last two civilians coming through those doors today.'

‘You miss being a cop?' Ada asked.

‘Nah, too much bullshit. I'll tell you this: it's going to be fun watching from the sidelines.'

‘Because?' Ada asked.

The guard chuckled. ‘Twelve hundred thirty-six people work in this building. Half of them are scared by Lenore and the other half can't stand her. Fear and hate: that's a whole lot of motive.'

‘Thanks, George,' Ada said, having checked out George Strand's photo ID.

‘You're welcome, Ada.'

As they walked to the elevators Lil whispered, ‘You were flirting with him.'

‘Of course I was.' Ada smiled. ‘You're just as curious as I am … if not more. You recorded that whole conversation, didn't you?'

‘Maybe,' Lil said, as the door slid shut and they headed up.

‘At least flirting isn't illegal, Lil. Audiotaping without consent is.'

‘Details.'

‘This is really interesting,' Ada said.

Lil's fingers ran down Ada's arm. She squeezed gently. ‘How did we ever find each other?'

‘Dumb luck … and lots of it.'

Lil let go as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

A twenty-something blonde woman greeted them. Her face was drawn; she seemed dazed. ‘Lil and Ada, hi, I'm Shana, Mr Stromstein's assistant. If you'd come with me. He was going to cancel, but …'

‘It's fine,' Ada said. ‘When bad things happen it's sometimes best to move forward with business.' She shot Lil a look as they followed Shana past a sea of mostly empty cubicles. Along the periphery of the large central space were offices. A few had their doors open to reveal long views of Central Park. Groups of people clustered in doorways and cubicles.

Lil and Ada caught snippets of their conversations. ‘Horrible.' ‘No surprise.' ‘What's going to happen?' ‘Without Lenore … I need this job.'

Shana directed them to an occupied conference room where six men and women sat around a gleaming mahogany table. The blinds were down, but through the slats was a dizzying view of Fifth Avenue. An attractive dark-haired man wearing rectangular frameless glasses and a beautifully draped charcoal suit rose from the head of the table as they entered. He looked first at Lil, and then his gaze settled on Ada. ‘Mrs Strauss?'

‘Ada, and you are?'

‘Crazed, confused … or you can just call me Barry.'

‘Barry,' Ada said. ‘Should we reschedule, considering …'

‘No. Trust me, if Lenore— Oh God, we don't even know if she's OK. We would have heard.' He shook his head. ‘Times like this I don't know what to say. I suppose introductions would work.' He reached for Ada's hand. ‘Here.' He named the three men and two women around the table: John, Ethan, David, Carrie and Melanie. None of them over forty, probably most of them closer to thirty, they were all white, all attractive. ‘And of course my assistant, Shana, who you already met. Can we get you anything? A sandwich, bagel, something to drink?'

Ada was about to decline, her thoughts skimming over the surreal circumstances. ‘Tea,' she said, feeling something frenetic pulse off of Barry. His hands were in constant motion, and she realized that under no circumstances would he have cancelled this meeting.

‘And Lil?'

‘Coffee would be nice.'

‘Right back,' Shana said.

‘So sit, please,' Barry said. His deep brown eyes never left Ada's face.

Unperturbed, she stared back, taking in his dark eyes, large nose and even features.
Good-looking and obviously successful
, she thought,
but is he always this wired?

‘You have exquisite eyes,' he said.

‘I can't tell if that's a compliment or you're looking for donor parts.'

There was laughter around the table.

‘Are we really doing this?' asked a short-haired brunet with a lily tattoo on her well-defined forearm.

‘Melanie, we're here,' Barry said. ‘You know this is what she wants.'

‘“She” being Lenore?' Ada asked.

‘Yes.' His eyes fixed on her as she and Lil took seats to his left.

‘So what happened?' Ada asked.

‘You mean who shot Lenore?' the striking brunet with the tattoo asked. ‘I don't think anyone knows,' she said. ‘And Barry's right − Ada, you have gorgeous eyes. And that haircut's right on trend. Are you wearing colored contacts?'

‘No. And thank you … Melanie?'

‘Yes. And is your suit vintage Chanel or is that a knock-off?'

Ada chuckled. ‘Wasn't vintage when I bought it. And not to be rude,' Ada said, ‘but what exactly are we doing here?'

‘Trying to catch lightning in a bottle,' Barry said.

‘And then package and sell it,' the sandy-haired man next to Melanie offered. ‘There could be action figures.'

‘Not for an antique show,' said the other woman, Carrie, who seemed closest to Barry in age. ‘But certainly spin-offs.'

‘Horse before cart,' Barry replied.

Shana returned with beverages.

Ada took a first sip of tea and sorted through the cryptic shorthand shooting around the table.

‘So,' Barry said to Ada, ‘Tell us about Grenville.'

‘Lil's more the expert. She was born and raised there.'

‘Never left,' Lil said. ‘What do you want to know?'

‘That's right,' Barry said, as though just seeing Lil. ‘You do that column. What's it called?'

‘“Cash or Trash”.'

‘Wasn't that a show?' asked the man with thinning red hair, David.

‘No,' Melanie said. ‘There was
Trash or Treasure
,
Cash in the Attic
,
Treasure Hunt
,
Treasure Wars
…' She paused, took a deep breath and, like some reality show savant, prattled off the names of a couple dozen more. ‘
Flea Market Wars
,
Bargain Wars
,
Bargain Hunters
,
Auction Kings
,
Storage Wars
. And then there's that whole sub-genre set in actual antique stores, like
Oddities
and
Oddities: San Francisco
.'

‘And why are we doing this?' sandy-haired Ethan asked.

Barry said, ‘Lenore thinks this vein has more gold in it, and I agree. Problem is, if we can't get something fresh, it's pointless. So here's the idea, but it has to be fleshed out.' He threw out his earlier Hail Mary pitch to Lenore. ‘
Antiques Roadshow
meets
The Hunger Games
on the set of
Gilmore Girls
.'

‘So that's the connection,' Ada said.

‘What is?' Melanie asked from across the table.

‘Grenville − where Lil and I live − is the antique capital of New England. Basically, it
is
the set of
Gilmore Girls
, and as the result of recent and very horrible events, Grenville is no stranger to murder. So I think why … Barry' – inwardly shuddering at all of this unearned first name familiarity – ‘has asked us here is he's wondering if maybe there's a show to be had in our sleepy − albeit murderous − little town.'

‘Is there?' ginger David asked.

Ada sipped her tea and looked at Lil. ‘Probably several.'

‘Some kind of contest or game show?' Lil asked.

‘Possibly,' Barry said. ‘Those work well, as opposed to people just bringing in items for appraisal. But there's something to be said for developing a regular cast of characters.'

‘That wouldn't be hard,' Ada said. ‘You'd have a couple hundred antique dealers to choose from. Then you have the auctioneers, the flea market, but how do you tie in the—' she stopped herself.

‘The blood?' Barry asked.

The door to the conference room banged open. A young man, his face flushed, looked around and then focused on Barry. ‘She's dead,' he said. ‘Lenore is dead.'

‘Oh dear God!' Melanie gasped.

The ginger-haired man shook his head. ‘Shit! Not good.'

The others were silent as they looked to Barry. He sighed as the man left to continue spreading the news.

‘I think a moment of reflection is in order,' Barry said.

Heads nodded in agreement.

Ada thought of the stretcher and the barely glimpsed celebrity with her wet hair and bloody sheets. While she was not a fan of Lenore, the woman was ubiquitous, a style icon whose local appearances in and around Grenville were topics of frequent conversation. Lenore's children − especially her train wreck daughter – were frequently on the cover of checkout-line tabloids. She glanced at Lil, and wondered how she was taking this. Her chestnut eyes gave away little as she sipped her coffee. A moment's reflection … were there lessons to be learned from Lenore? A woman who gave a surface message of grace and perfection, she was fabulously successful, wealthy, famous, but there were cracks. And this group of people trying to make something out of thin air. Shouldn't they go home? Call it a day? For God's sake, their boss had just been murdered. Apparently the killer was still at large. And without Lenore, how could there still be a Lenore Parks Productions?
Why are they still here?
And why are we here?